


One Last Time

by Churbooseanon



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1707215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Churbooseanon/pseuds/Churbooseanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>York can’t keep from thinking about the happier days of the past, and what he left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Last Time

A slab to sleep on, a few ammo boxes for miscellaneous furniture, and anonymity. All features any properly paranoid rogue agent of Project Freelancer would want out of a safe house.

York thought it was quaint. Delta kept reminding him it was a necessity to lay low if they were to avoid notice. York kept telling D that he really needed to figure out sarcasm.

The slab was far from comfortable, but he’d gotten used to it. Besides, it was pretty much as comfortable as the cots they’d been assigned with Freelancer. Hell, the most comfortable bed he’d slept in in the last few years were the ones in the hospital he’d been stuck in while recovering from the eye injury.

He had a lot of time to think then, just like now. Then he stared up at the clinically clean ceiling, listened to doctors and machines chattering, and could summon company in the form of flirty nurses whenever he hit a button. Now he had walls made of who knew what, a noisy fan, and only D. And too much time to think.

Had it been worth it? Every time he had a moment to think York found himself asking that. Why had he helped Texas? Maybe it was because North had agreed to help as well, but he didn’t think it was that. Maybe it was to get Carolina to notice him. Maybe…

"This line of thought is never productive," Delta’s voice cut in, as it always did when York found himself really thinking. It was almost like the AI disliked the idea of York actually putting thought into something for once.

"Yeah, you keep telling me that, D. But you also tell me I should think more often."

"I believe my exact words are to think before acting," Delta corrected, sounding annoyed as the glowing green figure moved toward him. Why was it that the AIs insisted on simulating walking? York hadn’t figured that out, but asking seemed ridiculous. So he watched as the figure ‘strode’ toward him, projecting from the helmet he had discarded halfway across the room.

"Well, it isn’t like you can read my mind anyway."

"No…" Delta almost grudgingly agreed. "But that does not mean your habits are not as transparent to me as a holographic lock."

Maybe they were. They probably had been for a long time. Because they always circled back around to the same thing. Every last time.

"Run the calculation again."

York was certain that if an AI could sigh, Delta would. If he had a face, it would have looked exasperated. Yet Delta did it anyway, took it seriously, and flicked out for a moment. Even though York was certain Delta had the numbers stored away he still respected York enough to run the calculation fresh. Which meant he had all of a few minutes to think in peace. Well, three seconds in truth, but Delta knew it was an excuse.

It was better back in Freelancer. Yeah from what he’d heard from Texas, from what Delta calculated, the Director was up to some pretty shady shit. But it was better back then. Staying up late with North having drinks. Teasing Washington in the mornings at breakfast. Hell, even that time where they’d managed to talk Washington to running through the training room on his skateboard had been priceless. Arm wrestling with Maine. Poker with Wyoming. Movie night with C.T. when they were all still new. Watching over Carolina as she threw herself further and further into her training to prove she was better than Texas.

"There is a thirty-five percent chance of success. Eighteen percent to escape without massive injury. Five percent chance that we would not be hunted to a greater degree than we already are," Delta came back at last.

"The odds were never really in my favor," York groaned, staring up at the ceiling. Infiltration might have been his specialty, but it only went so far. How was someone like him supposed to not only find the proper Project Freelancer facility, but manage to break in, make it through all the security, grab Wash, and get out?

"No, I do not believe that in our current state we are capable of a mission of this caliber," Delta agreed, as he always did.

He wasn’t rescue mission material, not alone. Even with Texas and North he had failed. They had failed. And so they had gone. In the process they’d left behind the only things he had still cared about. North had been able to drag South out. But York… He’d left Carolina behind. He’d left Wash. Carolina could have taken care of herself before… what happened. Washington, though, wasn’t the same. Not long after he’d awoken he’d been certified Article Twelve. Shipped off to some padded box somewhere to deal with Epsilon self-destructing in his mind.

"Maybe I should do it anyway," York mused, like he always did. "Find North and go in and save the kid."

"There is nothing to guarantee our success in locating Agent North Dakota. It is also possible that even going so far as to seek Agent North Dakota would either bring him or ourselves into greater danger, or result in our efforts being defeated before they could even begin."

"That doesn’t mean I can’t try."

Silence for a while. Delta was probably taking a moment to run through all his possible counter arguments, all the ones he had and hadn’t used before so he could select the one best suited to him. Meanwhile York let a hand come up to his ruined eye and he let himself wonder if maybe, just maybe, he could milk a few more percentage points out of the calculation if his eye still worked.

"Perhaps you should go about that job you were outlining earlier," Delta said at last. "You seem to handle things better when working."

"Yeah," York agreed, but they both knew what Delta really meant. York didn’t think about pretty much anything else when he threw himself at a lock.

So he suits up, letting Delta distract him with going over the plan they had developed. The work wasn’t just a way of survival these days. It was a way to keep himself from thinking about the people he let down. A way to keep himself from giving in and going after Wash, throwing away Delta and his life in the process. And Delta babbles in his head, all the way to the target. Babbles as he gets out his tools and revels in the feel of a good, old-fashioned physical lock. Babbles enough that neither of them hear the footsteps at first. He hears the gun cock, though. Too much training to not pick that sound out.

"Alright, freeze!"

His hands go unbidden to his pistol after dropping his tools. Friendly act usually works, but he was never that great at lying.

"Oh… Sorry officer, I uh, lost my keys to my shop here an I was, trying to figure out a way to, you know um…"

"You never were a very good liar, York."

The name makes him pause, and the voice clicks in his head. At last York stands and turns, holstering the pistol. Who would have thought he’d ever see Texas again? The last time had been… Another door, another rescue mission, but that time for someone she needed to find, not someone he did.

A job offer, Delta hesitant. But York sees a lot more than what Texas is offering, and what Delta is cautious of. He sees percentages rolling higher and higher, and a sudden flash of hope. Despite Delta’s concern and confusion, he says yes. Because there is another price he intends to demand when it’s over. This isn’t about Wyoming for him, never would be.

With Texas, after all, it might be enough.

_I’m coming for you, Wash. I promise._


End file.
